


●weakling● {tom holland}

by apeoples365



Series: On Your Knees [1]
Category: tom holland - Fandom
Genre: Bottom Tom Holland, Degradation, Dom/sub, Dominant, F/M, Femdom, Interracial Relationship, Light Angst, Light BDSM, Masochism, Mommy Kink, Nerd Tom Holland, Sadism, Spanking, Sub Tom Holland, Submissive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-01-06 01:15:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21218132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apeoples365/pseuds/apeoples365
Summary: "please, ma'am. ruin me. i deserve it."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> °|okay so this is based off of a p*rn video i watched "once" on "accident". ;) |°

Tom took a deep breath as he walked through the double doors of his therapist's office. It had only been about 2 weeks since he last saw her and every fiber of his being was itching to see her again. The woman who counseled him was absolutely gorgeous. Luscious skin that glowed everytime she was in the light, beautiful brown eyes speckled with hazel when she smiled or ringed gray when she became frustrated. Soft-looking lips that he could stare at all the while she talked and talked. Tom adored the mole she had above her lip on the left side and the way her braids shined every time he saw her. He could gawk at her for hours and never get tired of it. Each session fed into his obsession; there was no stopping Tom when it came to her.

Before he knew it, he reached the door of her room. It's almost automatic for Tom to know where to go, he didn't even feel his legs carry him all the way to the door. The receptionist must've looked at him crazy, but he could care less. He was finally here. Reaching his hand up to knock, the door swung open, revealing another man coming out of the office. Tom had a tendency to forget that she had a job to do. No matter how much he tried to remember and not take it all personal, he still endlessly envied every man he saw come out of her room. _What was he doing with her? What was she doing with him? How long was he there?_

Questions scrambled through his paranoid head, glaring at the man that walked out. Obviously, the guy didn't pay any mind to the smaller man in comparison. Tom knew the face he pulled wasn't threatening, but it was worth every chance of getting to her.

"Oh, Tom," a familiar voice at the door said in a flat tone. She didn't seem too happy today. "You're here... incredibly early today. Come in," Ms. Diane beckoned the feeble man into her office. Tom pushed up his glasses and nervously walked in with his hands behind his back like he did everytime he came in.

The man stuttered out, "S-so Ms. Diane, how h-have you been?" He sat on the love seat across from her desk, fiddling with his fingers. God, he was so nerdy. It's like he came out of a cliche teen movie, he was so incredibly nerdy. Hell, he even said himself he's obsessed with comic books and goddamn "manga", whatever the hell that meant. Diane specifically remembered Tom saying he always wanted to be Spiderman. That was kind of cute, but still geeky sounding.

"I've been fine, Tom. You?" the therapist responded rather curtly. She wasn't in the mood for that much small talk at the moment. Tom just said, "Good."

"That's good, Tom. Now what brings you to my office today?" Diane looked up from her paperwork with an uninterested look on her face. Whether Tom really had a reason this time or not, didn't really matter. As far as Diane was concerned, she was going to give him a piece of her mind about his _antics _as they were impeding on her work.

"Ah, well," the man pulled on his collar sheepishly. As usual, he didn't have a specific reason related to why he has these sessions in the first place. Tom ran out of things to talk about a while ago, so maybe bringing up the same thing that was bothering him last time could be a good excuse for getting his weekly fix of Ms. Diane.

"Mr. Holland, I really don't have all day so I'd rather you spit out whatever you need to say."

Tom flinched a bit at his therapist's harsh tone. "Ah, s-sorry. Well, I wanted to talk a bit more about what I came in for last session. You know, about what I'm missing. Recently, it seems like it has gotten more apparent to me that I'm missing something, but I still don't know what. It could be the fact that intimacy hasn't been very - _prominent _to say the least."

Diane looked Tom up and down, blasé written on her face once again. This man could literally not be anymore pathetic than she thought he could. It's such an insignificant topic that she got paid to talk about and it never seemed to be any less interesting each time. At least a bitch received enough coin to support herself.

The highly annoyed woman rubbed her temples internally, wondering how this nerd managed to piss her off more and more with each sessions. Maybe he was only here to get more pills to pop from her recommendation. He _was_ prescribed Xanax for his extreme anxiety.

"Look, Tom. If you're really trying to get me to give you more pills so you can get high then you can kindly leave. I'm your therapist, not your doctor." Tom perked up with his face and tips of his ears red as a tomato. He tried to explain himself further, "N-no ma'am, I don't need any more medicine. I-I was just saying that-" But Diane wasn’t having it.

"You have the same problem you had last session. Remind me what that problem was again, Mr. Holland?" Diane snapped with an eyebrow raised in curiosity.

Tom gulped and pulled at his collar again. It was embarrassing to mention the problem he had, considering it wasn't much of Ms. Diane's concern.

He quickly mumbled under his breath then shut his eyes as tightly as possible. "What was that, Mr. Holland?"

"I said I can't get it up normally!" he shouted out. That was... not the issue he was talking about last time. What type of fuckery was he tryna pull-?

"Tom, what the hell do you mean 'normally'? And this definitely wasn't what we discussed. Look here, I'm not playing games with you, boy. Make some goddamn sense or I'm kicking you out this time."

Tom shook his head frantically, his own way of begging to not be kicked for real this time. And Ms. Diane was totally serious. The man exclaimed, "B-but please, Ms. Diane! I'm absolutely serious. I think it's psychological for me and I need it to be assessed! Please, Ms. Diane." And out came the puppy dog eyes; somehow they actually worked on Diane. She had a soft spot for begging and pleading, which Tom figured out on his own.

Diane sighed, putting her head into her hands in shame and aggravation. This poor, pathetic man in his early 20s, couldn't get it up "normally" and he expected that _she _could fix it. Again, this was what kept the lights on and the rent paid. So she might as well indulge in his stupid little game he's playing now.

Again, the woman sighed and dared to inquire her insufferable client, "How do you know that your functions are not 'normal', Tom?"

"Well, it's- it's because I only become aroused when I see or hear or even think about one certain woman in my life that I'm quite fond of."

Aw, that's actually sort of sweet to hear from Tom. These were the moments that Diane liked the most. When her clients expressed their puppy love and lovesick lives, it warmed the cold amd bitterness inside of her heart. Especially hearing something like that from a gigantic nerd like Tom. It was a bit of a surprise.

"That's really nice, Mr. Holland. I'm glad you found someone that makes you feel that way. So tell me more about her, hun," Diane said, clasping her hands together on top of the table. Tom followed her movements with his eyes, taking in each detail of her hands. They were always manicured and painted in pretty colors (her nails were dark blue at that time). Tom's favorite color on her was the neon green she had a few months ago. If he could ask her to wear the same color and just simply wrap around his throat-

Fingers snapping in his face took Holland out of his love-struck trance. He looked up at Ms. Diane and blushed hard, shrinking into the loveseat more in embarrassment. "Tom, it seems like this woman has you daydreaming often. How often do you daydream about her? Does she know at all?"

The man darted his eyes around the room in an attempt to avoid eye contact. "Tom," Diane said sternly. He flinched at his name, but still maintained to avert his gaze anywhere else, but Ms. Diane. "Tom! You know better than to avoid eye contact with me. You know that pisses me off."

For the fourth time, Tom shrunk down at the hardening voice of the woman he admired. He finally decided to raise his head up to look at Ms. Diane. Those eyes that burrowed into his soul ringed gray, meaning she was frustrated. She had probably been frustrated for the last 5 minutes or so. Tom had been dodging the true topic of the conversation for long enough and he might as well come clean now.

"I do daydream about her. A lot. And no, she doesn't know," he replied as softly as he could. He had no reason to hide now. Diane hummed and drummed her nails against the table, "Why doesn't she know, Tom? She must be close enough with you in order for you to even have these feelings."

Tom knew why she didn't know. Because if she did, she wouldn't see him ever again. They would never interact afterwards for as long as Tom would live on. And Tom would dwell on the rejection until the day he dies.

Not wanting to confess right away and ultimately running from the issue again, he said, "She wouldn't like me like that anyway. She's way out of my league and I don't think I deserve a woman as strong as she is. But she's all I can think about now."

Diane hummed again as she leaned back in her chair before coming up with an idea to spit it out of Tom. It was an _alternative _therapy that she rarely used on her clients, let alone male clients, but it was worth a shot in revealing a dirty secret from this dork. "Well, Tom," she started. "We could try a method of therapy that isn't very well-known. Usually, I don't use it on my male clients, but you seem to be desperate enough to try it out. If you're not comfortable now, say so and we'll figure out another way. Sounds good?"

Tom nodded and smiled a bit. Maybe that type of therapy will help. "So, Mr. Holland. Just sign this here and we'll be good to go with this new technique." Diane pulled out a contract from her folder and slid it towards Tom along with a pen. What kind of new method required a contract? He scanned over the paper briefly then wasted no time to sign it eagerly, handing it back to his therapist. She smirked slyly and took the contract gracefully. "Now, Tom. I need you to go ahead and remove your pants for me," Diane said, gesturing towards his worn-down jeans. Confusion was written all over Tom's face, he was having a hard time processing what Ms. Diane said. _Did she say... my pants? _he thought. The question seemed out of character for his therapist to ask. But it excited Tom nonetheless. His bulky belt and jeans came off in a hurry, tripping over his own feet a couple times before revealing cute yet childish Spiderman boxers.

Diane chuckled at the sight, soaking it all in. This man has no idea what he's in for now. Soon enough, he won't be crawling back here, begging to be fixed like a little pathetic whore. "Now, Mr. Holland. I need you to bend over my lap."

Now that scared Tom a little more than it should've. Was he going to be spanked? He didn't like spankings at all. They hurt his butt and turned it red too. He shook his head frantically at the request of his therapist, which he knew would make her mad. But he really didn't want to do whatever she wanted to do if he was going to be spanked.

Diane raised her eyebrow again, crossing her arms. She demanded, "I'm not going to tell you again, little boy. Come here, over my lap now."

And again, Tom shamefully shook his head with his gaze at his feet. As much as he wanted to obey the beautiful woman before him, he didn't want to be hurt. But the fact that she called him 'little boy' did make Tom a bit hard in his boxers. It would be really weird if Diane felt his _thing _poking her thighs or something. The man's thoughts were interrupted by a slam on the table. Ms. Diane's hand. Tom had no choice, but to look at his therapist. The gray ring around her eyes became more apparent; she was definitely angry now.

"One more time, Tom," she said roughly. "Over. my. lap. now." The growl in her voice made Tom squeak and run around the table to lie across Diane's lap. His hair was grabbed tightly and with the woman leaning down, she whispered in his ear, "Good little boy." As she ran her fingers through his hair softly, his underwear was pulled down and hooked under his bubble butt. "So, with this new _method, _I'm hoping to reach into your consciousness if you will and we can find the deep seeded reason for why you feel sexual attraction towards only one specific person. Got it?"

Tom nodded against Diane's thigh. He was ready to try anything to get rid of this taboo feeling.

"Great. I'm gonna ask some questions and just answer then truthfully. If you refuse to answer or lie, you will receive a punishment," Diane explained briefly. It seemed fair enough.

"First question: when did these feelings start, Mr. Holland?"

"About 3 months ago. Or maybe even before then, just never fully realizing how I felt until 3 months ago," the man replied with uncertainty in his voice. He didn't want to be fully truthful in front of the woman he was describing. But his half-right story was believable enough in Tom's head.

Diane, however, knew he was lying. The tone of his voice and the way he fidgeted around in her lap was enough to give his little lie away. She gave him a swat, making him yelp and jump at the sting of the spank. "I know you're lying, Tom. Tell me the truth. You don't have any reason to lie to me."

The man whimpered at the scolding. As much as he didn't like lying or being spanked or being scolded, it kept him from being rejected at the moment. Tom would rather have a sore bottom for the rest of the week than to tell his therapist about the undying crush he has on her. "I'm sorry, Ms. Diane. I really can't tell-"

_Smack! _Another whimper came out of Tom's throat as he lurched forward in her lap. His ass must've been beet red by then. Squirming around, he finally confessed, "Okay, okay! Since October."

_Huh, pretty long time,_ Diane thought. And she never caught word about it until that confession.

"Now, tell me, Mr. Holland. What is it that you like about this little love interest of yours?"

"Oh man. For starters, she's godly. Beauty beyond comparison of any other woman I've seen."

That sounded corny as hell, but it must've been true with how passionate he sounded. Rolling her eyes to the back of her head, she let him continue without commentary.

He spoke in a delicate voice, "She also is very dominant. Has this confidence and ego that could cower a room in fear. Sometimes, I fear her myself. I always imagine myself being under her control, catering to her whims with no questions. I'd do anything for her."

"Wow, Tom. She really must have you smitten to hell and back. What's this lucky lady's name?"

That question had Tom go stiff again. What did he have to hide this time?

He gulped, "Do I have to answer that question? Isn't it a bit- invasive?"

Diane held a stoic look on her face; she really wasn't having Tom's shit today. He's been ducking and dodging most of the questions for almost no reason, as if this woman he speaks so highly about is some secret agent undercover and doesn't want to be revealed. Well, they weren't going to figure out his little 'problem' unless Diane had some detail on the mystery woman.

To answer Tom's previous question, Diane swatted the man's perky ass once again. Groaning, he clenched his fists at the familiar pain. He knew he shouldn't have said that, but she was really close to figuring out that she was the woman he admired so much.

"Wanna try that again, Mr. Holland?" Diane cooed mockingly, stroking the man's now crimson colored behind. He flinched at her soft touches from the lingering shocks of the scars displayed across his ass. Never had Tom ever imagined such a terrifying yet electrifying and intoxicating feeling coming from being spanked like a child. The pain and excitement that grew within him made him want to disobey Ms. Diane more, craving for the same thrill he received, hit after hit.

He wriggled in her grasp once more, almost aiming to tease the woman above him. He chaffed at Diane, "I don't think I can tell you, Ms. Diane. It would ruin the surprise." A smirk crept up on Tom's face.

_Oh, so this little shit thinks this is a game, huh? _Diane knew good and goddamn well about Tommy's little games he liked to play with her. Which just made her suspicion kick into overdrive.

Delivering one spank after another, she gritted her teeth in between each word. "Don't. Play. Games. Little. Boy." Moans and whimpers slipped out of Holland's pretty mouth, his face contorted into pleasurable pain. Diane wasn't going to give up, yet. She grabbed his chin in her right hand and lifted his head up, making him stare at the wall in front of him. "Have you had enough yet, sweetheart? Or do you wish to prolong this experiment of mine until you decide to squeal like a pig?"

Tom screwed his eyes shut in anticipation and taunted, "Why don't you try harder, _Diane?" _Oh, he'd officially begged for it. Without hesitation, Diane let her hand freely spank the deserving ass repeatedly while pulling on Tom's hair. The harder the spank, the more obscene the boy's whines were. "You loved being spanked like a little bitch, huh? Watching your ass turn redder and redder makes me throb over and over, baby boy." Dirty, sweet nothings spoken into Tom's ear almost pushed him over the edge. The urge to submit clouded his thoughts, his vision becoming fuzzy from pleasure. All he could do was wriggle in the woman's lap and whine, whine, whine. Diane felt Tom's cock twitch, he was leaking on her leg like a little bitch in heat. The spanks continued to rain down on the man's ass one by one.

_Smack! Smack! Smack!_

"Just admit who you like, Tom. The sooner you do, the sooner your ass stops burning."

Tom remained silent to her demand. He didn't want this thrill to end, nothing felt better than feeling the woman he was solely devoted to completely destroy his masculinity and make him crumble with ease. Any air that was traveling through his body couldn't find its way to his throat, breathing was hard enough as is. Words weren't available to Tom's mind or mouth; every possible word in the English language couldn't describe the pure bliss endured as his ass stung. Nothing compared.

Lewdness escaped from the mouth of a pathetic nerd who knew that this was the only disgustingly sweet way of getting himself off other than his own dissatisfying hand. The whimpers of an utter dork who wouldn't keep his goddamn mouth shut about anything, resulting in severe situations like the one he was in. Tom couldn't help, but realize a simple revelation: he was nothing without Diane.

A guttural groan rumbled in his chest, he rutted against his superior's leg with no remorse. Diane knew what he was doing. He was trying to form some sort of an apology or truce. 'No more, no more!' he was silently pleading with the movement of his hips. His sign of submission would have been tolerated if Tom had simply complied in the first fucking place. With that in mind, the woman released her long grip on the boy's hair and kneaded his sore ass cheeks. The poor feeble boy trembled, shaking ever so often.

His head dropped down and he uttered something under his breath. "What was that? Speak up, slut." Diane wasn't messing around anymore. The game of beating around the bush was old for her, and there was no running this time. Either Tom confessed to the whole truth and nothing, but the truth. Or he had the option to be ravaged further than he's ever had the pleasure of experiencing. Albeit his little roundabouts worked before, the tricks were too predictable. There was nowhere to run, nowhere left to hide, nowhere left to keep the dirty secret that could devastate his fantasy world. So out came the highly anticipated confession:

_"It's you, Ms. Diane."_


	2. Chapter 2

_"it's you."_

__________________________

There were a million miles worth of thoughts sprinting through Diane's mind as she walked up to her door. She fumbled around with her keys for a bit, finally getting her shit together when she unlocked it. _Fucking finally_, she thought while dropping all her bags to the floor in exhaustion. Diane slowly closed the door behind her as she slid down it onto the floor in despair, reflecting over her day.

Her session with Tom was mind-boggling and exhilarating at once. She knew she had no right, nor any legal justifications for what she did with him, it was completely wrong and out of line for the intimacy, she had broken between them as therapist and patient. But the deed was done and over with. Also, she didn't give much of a fuck about it; he needed to be put in his place like certain men should be and need to be and that's exactly what she did to Mr. Holland.

Then there's that same voice constantly nagging in the back of her head, worrying about the word spreading and ultimately having her career shot down in the mud. Diane could easily be out of a job with the snap of a finger. News coverage all over, shunning her around the world, calls and calls coming from every station, news reporter, journalist imaginable until her phone shut down and couldn't be used.

And back to reality, the worst that could happen is losing her job. Still a bad thing, though. If she knew that she could be holding herself against a wall with her antics, she would've opened her own fucking place of business.

_Maybe I'll do just that_, Diane pondered as she gingerly stood up from the floor and walked to her room as she stripped all of her clothes, dropping them one by one in the hallway. She plopped onto the soft, cooling satin of her California King with earnest, basking in the glory of her beautiful bed and the glory of the moonlight beaming through the sliver of her blinds.

All of it was embracing Diane tenderly, softly lulling her to sleep; she closed her eyes without any more hesitation, ready to forget the paranoia she had from her session today.

_It'll all get better soon, right?_

____________________________

Tom couldn't help himself, he had no self-control whatsoever and it was all on a wine glass full of whim and an impulse to garner the undivided attention of his therapist. All he yearned for now was Diane's hands trailing over his delicate torso and having her nails dig into his precious skin, breaking it and letting the blood seep out while she kept on tormenting and chastising with her enchanting voice: "_Such a pathetic, filthy little boy for his mistress, eh?", "You love it when I bruise your pale skin, right, my pretty little prince?"_ and _"You belong to me, Tom. Your body, your soul, your mind, all of you is rightfully mine, baby boy."_

"Yes, Mistress Diane!"

With a feeble whimper from his last breath, Tom released his pent up frustration into the palm of his hand, shuddering with delight and a smile permeated on his face. He loved imagining the coarse, calloused hands gripping his waist or tugging and pulling at his pathetic cock like he actually deserved it. He was hoping, praying that he would experience that feeling from his therapist. Then, he came back to reality, the giddy smile leaving his face faster than it came (pun intended). He thought to himself sullenly, _It wouldn't matter, I'm no good for Ms. Diane. I only ache zealously for her touch and more than her touch._ Quickly, he took a tissue from beside him and cleaned up his shame. Slumping back on the couch, Tom ran his clean hand through his hair, trying to calm himself down so he could sleep better tonight.

_Ring, ring, ring!_

Well, so much for trying to get some sleep. Tom jumped slightly, swiftly answered his phone, feverishly calling into the receiver, "H-hello?"

_"Hello, Mr. Holland, how are you this evening?"_

Holy shit. Holy fucking shit, she called him! She was talking to him right then and there! Fuck, was this a dream or something? No fucking way was he listening to her voice right now.

_"Mr. Holland?"_

"Ah, y-yes, hello Ms. Diane! H-how are you? What pleasure do I owe you of calling me at this hour?" The hour was currently 2am.

_"Well, I just awoke from a long nap despite having work tomorrow."_

Tom blinked at the wall in front of him, confused. "I understand, but w-what does that have to do with you calling me if you pardon my asking?" He picked at the threads of the throw pillow next to him rather harshly, trying to calm himself as he was entirely excited—in more ways than one—about talking to his favorite person in the world, next to his mother of course.

_"What, I can't call a client of mine outside of work hours for comfort just like you come to me during work hours? Is that a bad thing, Mr. Holland?"_ Ms. Diane said in a coy voice, dragging out her vowels as well.

Tom was imagining her lying in her bed, wrapped in silky pajamas, her dainty finger twirling a loose string from her bedsheets seductively, trying to seduce him like a siren from the depths of the Mariana trench with her infinite beauty and bewitching song. In his head, it was a sight to behold. There was a part of Holland that truly wanted to pour his dorky heart out to her, beg and plead for her to just tease him, hover her hands sweetly over his aching body. So desperately wanting to arch into her touch made his heart lurch and his stomach butterflies create a storm inside. Tom could not contain himself. But he had to, or else he would ruin his chance at talking to Ms. Diane.

_"You still there, Tom?"_

"O-oh yes, Ms. Diane! And to answer your previous question, no, it's not weird at all."

_"Good, 'cause you weren't going to be let off the hook this time, Mr. Holland,"_ Diane dragged out the man's last name followed by a giggle. _She's really fucking teasing me now._

"Well, Ms. Diane, I'm glad to hear your voice if I'm completely honest." Tom was surprised at himself for being as bold as he was just now. He felt like the cool, laid back jock in those cliché movies.

Diane just chuckled lightly, _"When are you not happy to talk to me? You do like me after all."_

Oh, right. He confessed during their session. They both had brushed it off so nonchalantly, neither of them mentioned it and ended the session quickly.

"W-well, I might've been lying-"

Diane sucked her teeth hard, _"Don't give me that bullshit, Tom. I know you like me. You practically confessed your undying love for me without saying it was me the entire session until the end. I think you wanted me to know. You didn't want to hide it at all. You weren't subtle, you weren't very secretive. You wanted me to know, didn't you Tom?"_

That was the hardest swallow Tom ever pulled down in his throat. She had figured it out. He put out so many hints in hopes that she would notice, and yet so foolishly believed Ms. Diane was naive towards his advances. And he had an accurate suspicion as to why she wouldn't advance him.

Tom pulled at his collar again, "I-I mean-I don't know-maybe."

_"You don't know? Don't give me more bullshit, baby boy."_

"Yes, Ms. Diane," he shakily huffed out. He was getting hard all over again, there was easy access to relieve it since he never put his pants back on. He rubbed his free hand down his stomach, stopping shy of his semi-hard cock to tease himself. Plus, he needed Mistress' permission first.

_"That's not my name, baby boy,"_ Diane snarled softly into the receiver. _"What's my name, Tom?"_

Tom gasped at the shivers falling down his spine, her voice rose goosebumps all over his skin and made the hairs on his nape stand at attention. He dragged his shirt over his measly dick, rutting himself against it which stained the shirt with precum. "Mis-"

_"Uh uh, angel. What's. my. name?"_ her ragged breathing filled Tom's ear sweetly and he could only imagine what she was doing beyond the phone. The mere thought of that made him leak like the little virgin he was, a horny nerd that's never fucked in his life because he couldn't pull anyone in or out of his league even if he did his damndest to do so. And the only way he was ever gonna pull Ms. Diane, may whatever God above or below bless her, was to say her name. Thankfully, he was willing.

"M-Mommy. Please, Mommy, I need-, I-I need-" he panted out desperately.

_"Need what, baby? Tell Mommy what you need."_

"I need," Tom whined again. "Need you here. Right now, please. I need Mommy here."

____________________________

Three knocks at the door startled Tom, but he weakly shouted, "It's open."

The door creaked open slowly before closing shut. He looked over to see Ms. Diane in a red robe clinging to her beautiful body, hugging her curves in all the right places. She wasted no time walking over to the whining mess on the couch and sat next to him, legs crossed and a hand on Tom's thigh.

"Waiting for me, huh? Pathetic enough to sit here and patiently wait for me to come to you, aren't you Tom?"

Tom bucked his hips at the degrading words, rutting himself again his shirt. He could only let out a small whimper in response to Diane's rhetorical question. Only, she did want an actual answer. She took his chin roughly and turned it to make Tom face her. He whimpered again and shut his eyes tightly at the pain. The grip tightened, "Answer my question, boy. Are you or are you not pathetic for waiting?"

"Yes, yes, yes Mommy! I am pathetic for waiting. Please, please just- touch me, please-!" Tom's words were cut off by a slap to his thigh.

Leaning in, Diane whispered lowly, "Mommy makes the rules. You follow them, you'll be rewarded. Break them, expect punishment. Am I understood?"

Tom couldn't nod fast enough, letting out a broken moan as Diane wrapped her fingers around him, slowly stroking to tease him further and squeezing that precious face of his even more. All of the raging endorphins running through his body were rushing every possible blood cell to his both of his heads, not using either one of them to think. Thinking for himself wasn't an option anymore, Tom wanted Mommy to think for him because that's what little boys want.

The more she stroked, the needier he became. It was like playing with melted putty: malleable and easy to mold. And of course, very sticky. Diane was more than willing to make this so-called man into her little bitch in heat, Tom was more than compliant to be molded for Mommy and Mommy only. This was true bliss at its finest.

Tom grabbed Diane's wrist in an attempt to stop her. Confused, Diane slowed her movements to a halt. Tom heaved out, "I-I was about to cum. I can't yet. N-not until Mommy says so." Considerate little boy Diane has. Not to mention awfully cute when he was fucked out. Those bleary, wet eyes and that small yet soft little mouth of Tom's could make Diane fall in love if she wasn't obligated to keep their romance to none whatsoever.

Diane hummed in agreement, softening her grip and rubbing over his cheek with her hand, wiping away some of the dried tears staining the man's face. She said softly, "Good little boy. Baby boy knows his place. And he knows that Mommy knows best."

Tom once again nodded as much as he could with a hand on his chin. "Well," Diane started, "not only will you cum when I say so, you'll cum the way I want you to. So, Mommy says get on your knees. I have a surprise for you." That smug smirk on Diane's face meant nothing but trouble. Fuck, what else did she want from him?

As told, Tom slid off the couch and sat on his knees, hands behind his back and legs spread so that his cock was bouncing out in front of him. Diane hummed as she saw the display. "Good little boy."

She brought a bag to her lap—where she even pulled that bag out of was a mystery—and pulled out a–holy shit, is that a fucking school girl skirt? Tom didn't think his already throbbing dick couldn't get any harder, now it was just bobbing and jumping for attention. He needed to fuck something now before he came all over himself again. But he couldn't help wantonly humping the air for some type of friction against his weeping cock, he needed something, now, now, _now_–

Diane took her foot and kicked Tom hard enough to hurt him and make him feel it, but not enough to damage his goods. He groaned, doubling over, covering himself out of instinct and gasping for air as wheezed from the pleasurable pain, loving the attention he received from Mommy. Tom couldn't be any more grateful for her generosity. "What do we say, slut?" Diane curled her lip up in disgust at his lack of manners.

"T-t-thank you for the reward, Mommy," Tom whined as he looked back up lewdly, tears streaming down his face and red blotches coating his cheeks delicately. He looked so fucked out without even being properly touched, it almost made Diane give in. _Almost_, but not quite. Tom knew he needed to earn the right to cum, and Diane planned on hindering until she wanted him to cum.

The skirt was thrown on the floor in front of Tom. He didn't need instructions, he could figure it out. Slowly, he picked up the skirt and stood up to put it in. The smooth material slid over his aching dick, making him shudder and his knees buckle. Once it was completely, Tom got back down on his original position. His cock was sticking up in the skirt prominently tenting the pretty little skirt and wetting a patch on it. Pretty little slut had an lewd look on his face. Tom knew he looked pathetic and desperate in front of Diane, but anything to please her was his mental mantra.

Taking her foot, Diane slowly rubbed Tom again. The man's breath hitched and a long groan droned into the lustrous air. Every hair on his body was standing at attention, his cock no different. This was truly Heaven on Earth.

The more Tom thought, the more he bucked his hips. The more his hips bucked, the faster he panted. He was Diane's bitch in heat, her pet to play with and torture for hours on end if she really wanted to. He was begging to be fucked over and over, it was written all over his dumb little face. Fuck, he wanted to cum so bad, it was getting harder to hold back. _I need to cum, I need to cum, I need to-_

"I-I n-need to c-cum, please! Please, please, please, _please_-!" Tom pleaded, having his sentence cut off by a hand squeezing his throat. He gasped for air as he was lifted into his mistress' lap and another hand was fisting his leaking cock. The hand on his throat tightened, the oxygen to his brain slowly being cut off. It was hard to breathe, it was hard to think or speak or do anything. Tom felt his stomach coil as his orgasm neared. He pleaded again with his eyes, making it clear he was close. Bringing him closer, Diane's forehead on Tom's, she whispered against his lips, _"Cum for me."_

White light blinded Tom as he came without a shout, only choking on his moans, his tongue lolling out of his mouth, excessive drool coming from it and falling on Diane's arm. He's sure he made it into Heaven, or was inching close to it as the white light got brighter and the euphoria overtook his body.

__________________________

Tom felt his body come to, his mind hazy and full of static. Opening his eyes, he felt something a sharp pang in his chest. Maybe it was a sunken feeling or a pang of guilt. Whatever it was, it wasn't changing the fact that Diane was nowhere to be seen. Tom sat up, seeing it was damn near dawn now (apparently he was knocked out for a long ass time).

Hearing a thud from down the hall, Tom turned his head to the doorway. _No way._ Please let it be true-

A small meow came after the thud. Shit, it was just his cat. Tom only sighed and curled up in a ball in despair of his delusional thinking getting his hopes up once again. The alarm clock next to Tom read 5:47am, making Tom sigh again and head to the bathroom for a shower.

After his shower, Tom trotted down the hall for breakfast. Maybe cereal would be nice for now.

He grabbed the cereal from the cabinet and went to his fridge, but stopped in his tracks to see a note. Grabbing it, it read:

_Here's an important number for you._

_Call it as soon as you can._

_Diane._

The note was vague to say the least. But if Diane said it's important, then who was he to go against her?

Using his house phone, Tom dialed the numbers and waited. A couple rings after, _"Good morning, this is Serena with Dr. Dawn's office, how may I help you?"_

"Uh, hi. I was referred to this number. My name is Tom Holland, H-O-L-L-A-N-D. Ms. Diane is the one who gave me this number."

_"Oh yes, Mr. Holland. We've been expecting your call. Ms. Diane wanted to relay a message for you before you made an appointment."_

Make an appointment? Tom questioned. What the hell was going on?

"I-I'm sorry, what appointment?"

_"An appointment for a session with Dr. Dawn."_

_What the fuck?_ Was Diane giving up on him? What the fuck is happening? This was all too confusing, Tom's head was reeling in agony and betrayal. What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, what the absolute _fuck_?

_"Mr. Holland? Are you still there?"_

Tom closed his gaping mouth and said listlessly, "Yes, I'm still here."

_"Ms. Diane's message for you was:_ I'm sorry, Tom, but last night wasn't meant to happen. You do not deserve to receive the backlash if word of this gets out. My intention was not to hurt you, but I know that I still have. Dr. Dawn will take good care of you, I promise that. Please do not contact me or my office. I wish you the best of luck, Diane._"_

So, that's it then. That's all. Nothing else to do, huh? Tom had a couple ideas of what to do now.

"Thank you, Serena. Could I make an appointment for tomorrow morning at 8am?"

_"Of course, Mr. Holland. Thank you for calling!"_

"Thank you, Serena." Tom hung the phone up, tears streaming down his face silently. That was all he could do. He was a _weakling, after all._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soooo, i didn't intend to end it this way at first, but then i was like, "i almost always do happy endings". so i made an slightly angsty, ambiguous one. i'm glad i finished this though. ciao✨


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